


A Marvelous Bargain

by FortinbrasFTW



Series: Tumblr Prompts - Dragon Age [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Confrontations, Friendship, Gen, Mentions of alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortinbrasFTW/pseuds/FortinbrasFTW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from Tumblr: "Josie intervening in Dorian's drinking problem because he keeps stealing so much wine (this is canon but I can't remember what happens for that conversation to happen)."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Marvelous Bargain

“I don’t mean to point fingers m’lady,” the man says, twisting his cap in his hands. “I really don’t want to bother anyone unnecessarily.”

Josephine sighs, standing from behind her desk. The man doesn’t seem comfortable enough out of the store-rooms to take the seat opposite so she crosses in front herself, sitting lightly on the edge of the desk so she can look him in the eye with a kind smile. That was always half the battle, meeting anyone on their level, matching them enough to gain trust and comfort. 

The man was obviously distressed. “It’s Jacobs, isn’t it?” she asks.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And how long have you been noticing the missing stores?”

He glances down at his feet. “A month. Perhaps two. It was hard to keep track when we first arrived, what with all the new shipments and the workings of the kitchen still sorting out. And there’s always a few things misplaced. But it’s been consistent m’lady, and I thought it best to notify you.”

“Yes, of course, thank you,” Josephine says, “please don’t trouble yourself with it further. I will see to it.”

The man gives a quick bow, hurrying to leave the room as soon as he sees it’s not rude to do so.

Josephine leans back on the desk, brows furrowing. The manicured nail of her index finger taps against the lacquered wood as she thinks. It’s a challenging problem to address, though there’s little mystery to it. She’s had her suspicions for a week or more now, but it was past time to find a solution. 

She focuses on the details of the tapestry across the room and considers the dilemma exactly as she approaches any problem, as her mother taught her to. She can still hear her words sharp against her memory, perfect syllables and crisp vowels, warm and close, curled around her in that large chair that was always her favorite in the library.

_“Always know that you will invent three solutions to any problem, Josephine. Knowing that will make any problem easier. The first solution will be quick, and know that it won’t be the best, but it will be a solution, and getting started is what maters most. The point of the first solution is to make you brave, to understand that the problem can be solved, even if the solving is clumsy and not perfection. The second solution will come quick enough, and the third, you should make yourself slow before securing. Give it room to breathe and grow. Then look back over them all, and choose the one that you think fits best.”_

Josephine Montilyet finds her three answers. She bites her lip, and cleanly plucks the one that fits best from the bunch. It doesn’t take long for the first steps to be in place.

 

—

The group gathers slowly but steadily, Leliana first, then Cullen, and eventually the rest. Solas and Vivienne linger by the back but arrive exactly on time, while Iron Bull and Sera are a little later but sit right up the table, feet up and relaxed posture. Dorian’s almost the last. She was sure not to include Cole in this particular effort.

“Thank you all for coming,” Josephine says clearly, silencing any linger conversation. “I’m afraid we have a situation I must address.”

“Oh gods,” Sera mutters warningly.

“What is it?” Solas asks.

“There has been some theft, from the storerooms,” Josephine says.

“What of?” Blackwall asks.

“Wine. Occasionally brandy. And I’m afraid the situation has become consistent and damaging to the books. It will have to be addressed.”

“Pardon me, dear,” Vivienne intones, “but this seems the sort of matter that you might be able to easily handle without Group Support.”

Josephine has come prepared. “I believe I know the perpetrator, but I wanted to give all of you a chance to communicate to your areas of oversight that this sort of behavior cannot be tolerated. And all of us represent the Inquisition more than anyone, we must be united in the image we present.”

“Well, who is it?” Leliana asks without asking. She’s watching Josephine with a small smile. “This vandal I mean?”

Josephine holds her eyes firmly, trying to say more than she can aloud. “Jacobs. The manager of the storeroom.”

“What?” Cullen says with open shock. “I know that man, he’s always seemed more than honest.”

“I was surprised as well,” Josephine says. Her eyes scan the room without lingering too long on any one face. Sera looks as though she’s holding back a string of obscenities directed towards her rather than Jacobs. Blackwall has an even deeper-set frown than usual. Dorian is looking at one of the windows rather than anyone else, brown furrowed as though he’s trying to solve some impossible problem in his head.

“What’s led to this conclusion?” Cullen presses.

“He’s the only one with the key to the store-room, and there’s been reports that his demeanor has changed in recent weeks.”

“That’s hardly damning,” Cullen asserts. “Couldn’t it be one of the mage recruits, gaining access without the aid of a key.”

Dorian stares out the window harder.

“Ah, yes of course, always the mages, we cannot respect a locked door,” Solas adds.

“Several of the missing bottles were found in Jacob’s quarters, empty,” Josephine lies quickly.

“What’s the problem?” Bull breaks in. “It’s just a few bottles of wine.”

“Hell, I might have an extra bottle or two from the pub kicking around my desk,” Varric notes.

Sera snorts in agreement.

“It’s the principal of the thing,” Cassandra says firmly. “And these bottles were not from ‘the pub’, they were stolen. Such belligerence cannot be tolerated. We must all remind those who surround us that we are only as strong as our weakest limb.”

“Bloody hell,” Sera grumbles, “are we done?”

“What will happen to the man?” Blackwall asks suddenly.

“I’m afraid he’ll have to be made an example of,” Josephine answers.

“What if he denies it?” Dorian asks.

“Of course he’ll deny it,” Varric says.

“The evidence is damning enough. We will send him to the Inquisitor when she returns. But I would ask you all to keep this to yourselves until she is decided in her judgement.”

The group splinters in bits and pieces, some eager to leave as soon as the topic was deemed settled, others lingering, talking the events over quickly between themselves. Once they’ve all gone Leliana steps to her side.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Josie.”

“I believe this is the best way to see to it,” Josephine returns.

“I’ll have to trust you on that,” Leliana says. “Frustratingly these are the exact types of matters that I can’t handle easily.”

“I will handle it.”

“I hope so, or Jacobs is in for a shock.”

“It won’t come to that.”

“Can you be sure?”

“We can never be sure of anything.”

Leliana shrugs slightly, walking towards the door. “I wouldn’t say that. Somethings that come shiny, sharp, and cold are quite certain indeed.”

When she leaves the room feels quieter than it should. There’s a stray curl playing against her forehead so she eases it back behind her ear. She looks towards the stone wall, but no one is there. He left with the rest of them.

—

The day passes slower than she’d wish, no matter how much work she tries to distract herself with. Each sound outside her door causes her to look to it, waiting for it to open, but it remains firmly closed. The sunlight sinks behind her window, sending the stones on the floor from yellow to golden and finally the thick indigo of evening. The nights are always brighter here than they had been at Haven, Skyhold being higher than many clouds, the moonlight cascading off the snow-thick peaks. She often doesn’t even light a candle to walk the halls and walls to her rooms, but she doesn’t head off to her quarters just yet tonight.

A servant comes to add to her fire. She lights the rest of her candles herself. There’s a pile of treaties waiting for her review and signature, all jargon and absurd meanderings of language. She’s not sure how much time has passed when a wooden plate suddenly hits the desk in front of her.

She jumps, one hand landing on her chest. “Goodness!” She hadn’t even heard the door open.

Dorian looks down at her. There’s a small smirk on his lips, but nothing smiles in his eyes. “Apologies.”

Josephine straightens her posture, looking down at the plate. There’s half a loaf of neatly sliced bread, a wedge of hard, sharp cheese, and a good helping of grapes. “Is this for me?”

“Aren’t you hungry? Up this late?” Dorian asks. He’s evaluating her. She can tell easily enough, but she doesn’t balk under the scrutiny.

“I am, thank you,” she says, sliding the plate closer. “It’s very kind of you to consider this. Although I’m sure Matilda will be close behind you.”

“She won’t. I asked her if I might take you this in her stead.”

“I see,” Josephine says. She smiles at him, giving a quick nod towards the chair opposite her desk. Dorian takes it, slowly. “It’s very kind of you. Giving me such consideration.”

Dorian watches her for a long moment, eyebrows narrow and low. “You’re quite a clever girl, aren’t you?”

Josephine doesn’t flinch. “Am I?”

Dorian scoffs, discomfort oozing off of him in waves as he adjusts in the seat. “You know damn well what you are.”

Josephine doesn’t let on. She plucks a grape from the plate, popping it into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully and silently. She lets the silence seep.

“Did you arrest that man? What was it, Jacobs?” Dorian asks, eyes firm on hers.

“Not yet.”

“And why wait so long?” Dorian asks as though he knows the answer.

“Why rush?” Josephine says. “Perhaps you’d like to inform him, you could go down there now and bring him to the dungeons yourself.”

“Alright, alright, that will be enough thank you,” Dorian says sharply.

Josephine narrows her gaze. “What will be?”

“For Andraste’s sake did you emerge from the womb this infuriating?” Dorian snaps. “We both know perfectly well what this is all about. The bloody grocer had nothing to do with those missing bottles.”

“If not him than whom?”

She’s not sure if he looks more miserable or furious. 

“It was me. And I think you’ve known that for long enough.”

The silence eases back into the chamber, leaving just the sound of the fire licking the stones behind them. Josephine leans forward. Dorian looks less stiff in the chair than he had. He isn’t looking at her anymore, glaring at the papers on her desk. 

“Why?” she asks softly. “Why take it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dorian says. “I’ve admitted it. That’s what you were after, isn’t it? And very deftly done too. Now the poor Jacobs can be freed from blame and you can lay down my shameful little habit at the feet of our Inquisitor.”

“That’s not what I was trying to do,” she says.

“Ah, then simple psychological torture and manipulation for the sake of it. Well done. I think you might enjoy a position in the courts back home when all of this is completed. You’re enough of a viper for the lot of them.”

She lets his defensive snapping roll from her shoulders. “Why take the wine?” she presses.

“Why not?” he pushes back. “Is it unfathomable for a man to desire a drink every now and again.”

“There’s wine and brandy at the tavern. Unless you simply didn’t wish to pay for your libations.”

“Nonsense,” Dorian growls, “you know that’s nonesense.”

“Then why steal it?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Dorian says, narrow eyes slicing back to her suddenly. “You’re oh so clever, so why don’t you tell me?”

She considers him for a moment. “I think that some people, don’t feel they know who they are unless they’re being punished for something.”

Something shifts behind Dorian’s eyes, but he simply leans back in the seat. “I’m afraid you might be mistaken there. Who could ever want to punish me? I’m far too charming.”

She feels so terribly sad for him suddenly she knows the expression escapes onto her face. He sees it. Of course he does, and the flash of insecurity it forces into hid eyes is just as wrenching.

“I like to drink,” Dorian says, his voice quieter, “that’s all. Shocking as it might seem. It makes things easier. It makes my head feel light enough to sleep. And I’m a grumpy drunk - I wouldn’t wish to inflict that on others.”

Josephine watches him. She takes a bit of bread and pushes the plate towards him. He looks at it for a moment before breaking off a few grapes.

“There’s nothing to concern yourself over,” Dorian says, “after all this I’ll simply have to purchase my indulgences in front of an entire tavern like everyone else.”

“No,” she says.

He looks at her. “No?”

“No.” She reaches under the table and pulls out her own bottle, setting it beside their quaint supper. “You don’t have to go to the tavern. You can come drink with me.”

Dorian raises an eyebrow. “Are you propositioning me Lady Montilyet?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Josephine says. “I suggest a bargain.”

A smile is temping at the neat corner of his lips. “What manner of bargain?”

“I have a bottle of wine delivered here, each night, on the books, as it should be. You may share it with me, if you like. You can have a drink, or two, with me. Or you can go to the tavern and buy as much as you like and drink yourself unconscious.”

Dorian considers her carefully.

“And I will sweeten the deal, if you are not convinced,” she adds.

“Is that so?” 

“Mm,” she notes. “While you’re here, you can ask me anything you wish, and I will answer truthfully.”

That gets a reaction. “You’re not serious?”

“Perfectly.”

“And I suppose I must return this favor?”

She shakes her head. “Only if you wish.”

“Now tell me,” Dorian says, leaning forward against the desk. “What could possibly illicit such a marvelous bargain?”

Josephine smiles at him softly. “I have found, for myself, that often times shared words can lighten a head more than any wine or brandy might.” She picks up another wedge of cheese with a smirk. “And if I’m honest, I miss a bit of gossip.”

Dorian looks back at her. The tense confusion that hung to his countenance when he entered the room has all but vanished. He leans back. “When do we start?”

She pulls out two glasses, pouring neatly. “Why not now?”

Dorian’s smile gains ground across his cheeks as she lifts her glass. 

“Alright,” he concedes, “if you had to choose, who has the best arse in the Inquisition?”

She chokes on her first sip of wine.


End file.
